Reflections of Revolutions
by BetweenDreamsAndReality
Summary: While visiting England one day, America discovers a secret room filled with magical items, particularly a mirror, which leads him into a world where America lost the American Revolution. Includes 2P!characters. Main pairings: UsUk. ON TEMPORARY HIATUS!
1. Prologue

"I'm coming!" England called after hearing the doorbell ring twice. He kicked the white oven closed with his black loafers and slipped off his pink oven mitts onto the white kitchen table. He walked hastily to the white front door and opened it lazily.

"Hey Iggy!"America exclaimed and threw his arms around the older nation who tried to force a smile for his former colony. England could tell it was certainly not a business trip the other nation was on courtesy of his jeans, gray tee shirt and his infamous bomber jacket, but it was hard to tell because the American never wore proper clothing to meetings even so.

"Nice to see you too," he said as an obvious lie. He motioned for America to join him in the main room for a bit. _Just a bit_, England told himself. "What brings you here unexpectedly?"

America slumped into the bland chocolate plaid coach he had so many old memories sitting on. The room was exactly how he remembered it: the ugly couch Canada and America would poke fun at, the feminine flowers plastered on the wallpaper matching the linoleum tiles, and a glass coffee table that England always used for tea. The only new additions were the television and lamp. He propped his feet onto the ottoman, a habit he created when he was a child, and asked "can't I just come and visit my favorite former empire?"

"Make it quick," he said. It wasn't that he _hated_ when America visited, it just flowed too many painful memories that overwhelmed England, especially when he came unannounced. Not to mention he had his infamous scones cooking in the oven, and he certainly did not want to have his cooking criticized anymore.

"Will you come to my birthday party?" he begged giving his famous puppy eyes and lip quiver he knew nobody could resist, especially England. "Everyone's going to be there but you! Even Russia is coming!"

"Thank you, but no thanks."

He crossed his arms across his chest and pouted. "Why not? There is gonna be fireworks and hamburgers! Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"It sounds childish if you ask me," he murmured loud enough for America to hear. "And it is going to not gonna."

He stuck out his tongue. "Stop being such an old man and live a little! The pres said I could stay overnight but I've gotta be back by morning, so I have 'til then to convince you."

England rolled his emerald eyes. "Well maybe you should get your head out of the clouds and go back to your own country. You should stop being insensitive about everyone's feelings. You know very well why I do not want to attend, and you persistently ask me every year to come!"

America frowned and bit his lip to prevent warm, brisk tears from falling. "I thought this year could be different. We're allies, right? Anyways, that happened, like, a billion years ago-"

"Two hundred thirty seven," he corrected acidly adverting his gaze to the window.

"Huh?"America asked raising one of his eyebrows in confusion.

"Two hundred and thirty seven years since I got that bloody declaration!"

His eyes glowed. "See! You do care! It's all in the past now, right? Anyways, if I was still your colony, you'd probably lose WWI and be speaking German. That wouldn't be cool."

Nervously he said "well, we shouldn't be talking about hypothetical things. I want you to wash up for dinner; I guess I will have to rummage for leftovers, if that is okay with you."

"Sounds delicious," he said just as he did as a child to please England.

He shrugged, lifting himself from the couch. "I guess I will mull over my options about your party…"

"That's good enough for me!" he said cheerfully and scurried down the hallway and into the cream colored bathroom. While he was walking back to the kitchen, America heard a creak in the floorboards that sounded oddly like a metal door. It was something he could not remember from all of the times he spent in this house as a child. Curiously, he lifted up the newly refurbished crimson carpet to reveal a metal trap door leading to a cellar or bomb shelter perhaps. _Iggy wouldn't notice if I was gone for just a couple of minutes, _he told himself as a justification to snoop around England's belongings. He jumped into the basement that consisted of a small room, primarily based upon trinkets he collected over the years. _Huh, I didn't know he has some memorabilia. I guess I'm not the only one with a storage closet…_

He shuffled through a couple of small boxes that collected nothing more than knickknacks such as his old pirate cloak that still stunk of gunpowder, a hand sewn sweater, a WWII and American Revolution military uniform, a couple of weapons and a snow globe of New York City America bought for him over fifty years ago. _Wow,_ he thought to himself. _He really is an old man. _

Out of the corner of his sapphire eyes, he noticed a mirror leaning against a bookcase of spell books. He gazed into the mirror, not even seeing a reflection of himself. _How stupid_, he thought to himself. _Why would Iggy even buy a mirror that doesn't even work?_ He stuck his hand to punch the mirror; however it rippled at mere touch, just a pond would. He pulled his hand away. This wasn't a mirror, as it was a portal. _It'll only be a couple of minutes, _he told himself trudging forward into the portal. However, the mirror collapsed in hundreds of shards scattering around his sneakers.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: Welcome to Reflections of Revolutions, aka Fogged Mirror. Yeah~ I put my A/N at the bottom so now I can discuss this chapter! Rating might change. I had this story in mind for a while and I hope that you enjoy it! I really do. I'm sorry the first chapter is so short, it is just a prologue. Should I even continue it? Urg. It seems so stupid and cliche...Maybe it was a stupid idea to start these stories anyways. I feel so conflicted! **Please review you awesome readers! If not I'm probably going to trash this idea. **If you like what you're reading be sure to follow betweendreamsandrealityy (yes two Ys) at tumblr for updates and more! I have to cut this short because my sister is forcing me to watch a movie with her even though I have to study for finals. Okay, I hope this didn't ruin your expectations.

Warnings: None yet.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.


	2. Chapter 1

"America!" England called taking his infamous scones out of the oven. They were a bit burnt on the edges, but that gave it an extra crunch to it. Besides, nobody knew a good meal anyways seeing as all the other countries ate processed food. At least it beat the shit that America always ate. "Are you done washing up?"

Silence.

"America, I know you are out there," he said angrily and thought about all the times the North American brothers hid under their beds or in the closets to avoid eating dinner. Only this time, he was far too tall to be hiding in his usual hiding spots, and it was far too easy to find someone in his unused closet.

The thoughts of a possible murderer or thief crept into his mind. Wait, since when did he care so much about his former colony? He never felt this protective about any of the others, so why was America so bloody different?

He sighed before walking out of the kitchen and into the Victorian-style hallway. "I swear, if you're just trying to scare me-" he shouted fretfully before tripping over the pulled up carpet. "Blood fuck, America!" he hissed the empty hallway once more not sure if he was angrier over tripping, having his newly refurbished carpet ruined or that someone discovered his secret room. He dusted off his green sweater vest and black trousers as he stood. His wide green eyes scanned over the metal door in which he tripped on. "Shit, America! Get your ass up here!" he shouted nervously.

No reply.

"Okay, I've had enough of your childish behavior! I'm coming down!" he yelled jumping down into his own cellar. His eyes scoped the room, noticing the few boxes America rummaged through previously. He turned over to his bookshelves and shrieked in horror at the disappearance of the mirror.

His knees collapsed underneath him, for once not caring about the dirt that tarnished the floor, as he pleaded through salty tears "please be okay…"

* * *

"Hey Artie I had this crazy dream w-" America began only to be interrupted by his vision. As Dorothy would say, he was certainly not in Kansas anymore although he was not in Kansas or even the United States to begin with. The whole aura of the area was bleary and gray, as if World War III actually broke out between the nations. The memories of Hiroshima and Nagasaki flowed into his mind.

_Where am I?_ he thought to himself trying to match the buildings to a time period. It was obviously past the 18th century, but nothing more. _Did I travel back in time or something?_

His blue eyes scanned the area again before noticing the mirror shards at his feet. "Fuck," he said out loud. He picked up all of the shards in his hands, managing to give himself a couple of cuts, before he set out to find anything that made sense. The streets of the urban were completely abandoned except for a couple of shops with candles flickering in their windows.

"Hello?" he called uneasily having his voice echo. He continued his walk down the street until he noticed a convenience store was open. The door made a detestable ding as he walked through the entrance. There was a short plump man working behind the counter, around the age of sixty, whose nose was caught up in a book. "Excuse me; do you happen to know the date?"

His green eyes looked up from the book and glared at him. "July 1st," he said with a thick English accent.

His eyes glanced around the room, scanning the old antiquates that looked items England would own. "What year?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "2012."

He stared back in awe. _Really? I must be in some parallel world or something…_he thought to himself looking at a telegraph and film camera sitting on the counter. He could swear he was back to around the Civil War era. Next he was going to say how Abraham Lincoln was still alive or the World Wars never happened.

"If you are going to stand around gaping and not buying anything I am afraid I have to ask you to leave," he said sourly.

"No wait, I'll buy this bag," he said holding up a black camping backpack. He fished in the pocket of his leather bomber jacket for a twenty dollar bill and handed it to the gentleman.

"Where did you say you were from?" he asked examining the bill as if he had never seen American money before.

"I'm from America!" he said proudly.

The cashier gave him a puzzled look before shrugging. "Hey, money is money." He stuffed the bill into the register before returning to his book.

America thanked the man before walking out of the store. He poured the shatters of the mirror into the backpack and heading out. Before he could blink he was tugged into a dark alley and something sharp was digging into his neck. In a raspy voice the silhouette asked "who are you and how the fuck did you get here?"

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: Hola! Sorry about the short [and awful] chapters. **Thank you five reviews in the first chapter! You all are amazing! **If you have a tumblr, please follow me at betweendreamsandrealityy (yes two Ys). If you like what you see, try reading some of my other fanfics, or not. Anyways, who is the shop keeper? Also, who do you think is threating our beloved American hero? I guess you'll have to wait for next chapter to see...(how corny)

Guest: Thanks, although I fear the story is _way_ overdone.

Ember Hinote: Sorry about that. It's really weird, some words just do that. Especially anything in uppercase. I will make an effort to look out for that.

Maiya123: Thank you, and I will try to update.

KawaiiYukihanaDesu: Yea~ People want me to continue. That makes me happy :)

CJWrites: Yeah, the spacing, I know; and I am deeply sorry about that. I wish there was some way to prevent that. Oh well, thanks for reviewing!

vampire16goddess17: Thanks and I'll try to have more chapters up soon!

Warnings: Strong language.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.


	3. Chapter 2

A thousand possibilities ran through England's head. His former colony was actually gone, and possible dead. He swallowed before wiping his tears with his sleeve. He was not going to have some pesky nescience cause him to cry. He was once the British Empire, definitely not one to cry. He reached in his pocket for his cell phone and ran down the list of names. Desperate times call for desperate measures, literally. "Hello?" the voice on the other line asked smoothly.

Franticly, England stated "You need to come here as soon as possible."

In an attempt to make a joke, France asked "what's wrong? Did your economy finally fail?"

He scowled. _Yeah, make a joke about _my_ economy when you're the in the Euro Zone, _he thought. "For your information my economy is doing just fine! It's about America. He is… missing," England said choking on the last word.

France's eyes widened with disbelief. "What do you mean by…missing? His economy was just beginning to recover."

England shook his head. "No, I mean he is actually missing. I think he is in a parallel world."

"You actually believe this to be true? This is worse than the time you tried to convince me that your fairy friends exist."

"They do exist," England huffed. He was definitely _not_ insane. Just because they were too thick to see them does not mean they did not exist. "But that is not the problem here. You have to believe me about this."

Acidly, he asked "and why should I?"

"Because why would I go to _you_ of all the countries for advice?"

"Touché," he said thinking back to all the times they sworn hatred towards each other. "I guess I'll see you around shortly."

"Err…thanks," England said awkward realizing he had been clutching his phone the entire time.

"We'll get him back," he assured his ally.

"I'm not sure about that. You have no idea what we are going up against."

* * *

"Who are you and how the fuck did you get here?" the shadow voice asked with a subtle English accent lingering on each word. His face was concealed by a large black cloak, as well as his clothes. He scraped the knife closer to his neck, tempting to make a slight cut to trickle scarlet droplets of blood on the ground.

"I'm…" he contemplated giving a fake name; but what good would that be? The last time he gave a fake name, he ended up in a heap of trouble with the government, and he certainly did _not_ want a repeat of that. The memories shot a quiver up his spine. "I'm America and I'm not sure how I got here."

The knife splintered to the cobblestone ground, creating a crack along the blade. "It can't be…" he whispered collapsing onto the floor. "It's impossible, I'm dreaming, eh? Tell me that this is all but a dream!"

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Maybe I am dreaming. I stepped through this mirror an-"

"Wait, did you say mirror?" he asked suddenly interested.

"Yeah, is it some kind of portal or something? It was a total accident, though!" he shouted defensively. That portal could have been some important balance-y thing. If anyone from either world knew that he broke it, he could be in even more trouble than he was with the government. Just the thought of what could happen sent another shiver up his spine.

"Come on," he said tugging on his jacket's left sleeve.

America pulled away. "Not until you tell me who you are and where I am!"

"You said so yourself, you are inside a parallel universe, although I wouldn't want to wonder what drove you to come here." He pulled off his black hood revealing the blonde wavy hair and purple eyes, although he was much more broken than he was back in his world. His eyes hid memories of countless wars and his face was peppered with tiny hairs. "And I'm quite surprised you couldn't even recognize your own brother."

America wrapped his arms around his parallel brother. "Canada! Where are the rest of the countries?"

"Shhh," he hissed draggingAmericaby his wrist. "Don't call me that out in the open like that! I'm Matthew," he scolded. "Wouldn't want some people overhearing that, eh?"

_If I wanted to get lectured, I could've stayed home with Iggy, _he thought to himself. "Okay, _Matthew_, what happened to the rest?"

Matthew adverted his gaze from his parallel brother's. "You should leave."

"Leave? Do you think I would still be here if I knew how to leave! The fucking portal broke!" he exclaimed throwing his hands carelessly around in the air. It's not like he wanted to be here. Heck, he wanted to be as far away from possible from this desolate, depressing world.

"Shit," Matthew cussed with a scowl growing on his face. _When did Canada become so badass, _America asked himself.

"Know anyone who could fix it? Maybe if there's a parallel Iggy or-"

"Iggy? Oh never mind your ridiculous nicknames," he said rolling his amethyst eyes. Again with the lectures. America thought this was going to be an adventure with heroes and princess, _not_ his brother frowning upon each of his actions similar to what England would do. Certainly not the latter. "We should go back to our headquarters."

His eyes glowed with excitement. _Finally, we are getting somewhere, _America thought. "Headquarters? Like the UN building?"

Puzzled, he asked "UN? What the fuck are you going on about?"

"Ya know. The place in the states." _They don't even have a UN? What kind of universe was this? _

He put a hand on America's shoulder. "Listen kid, we're not in your universe anymore so let's get one thing straight. America doesn't exist."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: Urg. I'm not sure how much I like these short chapters. I feel like the story is moving too quickly? Maybe, maybe not. It's only chapter 3...Sorry about the awful quality. I feel sick and I have finals and shit. FUCK. Only two more to go~ **Thanks a bunch to my amazing readers and reviewers! (I wish I had time to reply to all of them but I have finals and I am lazy) **Betweendreamsandrealityy (yes two Ys) is my tumblr name, in case you are interested. What did you think? Maybe it should have been more climatic? *Shrugs* or not. Who also loves badass!Canada? I DO! Actually, he is my favourite character. It seems odd since I am always writing a UsUk fanfic. They are just so cute together. And also PruHun, but that's on a different scale. Sorry about the spacing problem. I don't know why it is happening! Help me~ And what do you think England is planning with France and what is he trying to warn him about? How come he knows so much about the mirror unless...I guess you will have to find out in the next couple of chapters! [Yes, I am that cheesey]

Just Emz for now: Yea Canada Day! XD

RandomWriter57: I salute you for reviewing! (O ワ O )7 I don't know how I am going to make him react, but we'll see.

UsUk Fan4eva: I'll try to have it up shortly. Thanks for reviewing!

yaoi . net: Awww, I could totally see that! Thanks for the review :)

Warnings: Strong language.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.


	4. Chapter 3

"It's about time you got here, frog," England murmured shutting his front door behind the Frenchman and leading him into his main room. "Even Canada is already here!"

"Well, sor-_ray_. Do you know how long it takes to be this beautiful?" he asked combing his fingers through his luxurious golden locks.

"Not long enough," he muttered jealous of France's hair. Frankly, he was jealous of France altogether. He had rich land and culture but, mostly importantly, he had the trust of America. Something England thought he could never attain after the revolution.

France slumped into the dull dogtooth sofa, exhausted from his ride over to the isles. "So, what is this all about anyways?"

England bit his lip, to the point of making it bleed, not entirely sure how delicately he should explain the situation. "America is gone."

Curious, Canada asked "do you know how?"

"That's the thing…it's kind of a long story," he said not sure if he should mention the part about creating a parallel universe for his own personal gain and then abandoning it. Or why he manifested it in the first place. That would be one hell of a story.

"Well…? What are you waiting for?" France asked coldly pantomiming for him to continue.

He twiddled with his thumbs. "Long story short, he's in a parallel universe."

Their eyes simultaneously dilated in shock speculating the existence of different universes. "Parallel universe? Is he okay?" Canada asked over protectively of his brother. Honestly, he has always been this way about everything, especially recently. He was secretly afraid that his brother might collapse any minute, and other nations would begin annexing America. "We've got to-"

"He has the only portal, but I put a charm on it that if anyone walks through it, it breaks." Thinking back on that, he thought it was a dumb idea.

"And why in the right mind would you do that?" France asked harshly.

"To prevent myself from going through and any idiot would be trapped there if they were meddling with my belongings," he said shooting a glare at France who was caught more than once with one of his personal items, but less recently.

"Wait, have you been to this parallel universe?" Canada asked wanting to know everything there was to know about the situation his brother was currently in. He would fight through ten Russias to get his brother back.

"That was over centuries ago," he scoffed as if it was not a big deal in the first place. "There is no way-"

"What was in there?" he asked with pleading lilac eyes grabbing England's green sweater by the collar. "I fucking need to know what he is up against."

England muttered shamefully "something he won't be able to beat this time."

* * *

America's eyes widened. "No America? How did that even happen?" The two were walking in the woods for some time now, almost blindly. The trees were overgrown with ruthless ivy, as well as some of the old cobblestone paths dating back to the Middle Ages. He was surprised there were any forests, seeing as the atmosphere had an eerie, apocalyptic sensation to it.

"I told you, we cannot talk about that kind of things out in the open," he grunted trudging through another patch of overgrowth.

"Why not?" he asked quite clueless.

Matthew sighed. "I told you to just wait until we get to HQ.

"I could help you guys!" he suggested throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

"No," he growled. He bear to watch America get murdered by that monster right before his eyes. At least, not again. He swore to himself that he would protect this America, at all costs.

"But I'm a hero, and heroes help people in need!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

He faced his parallel universe brother, only seeing his own brother in his sapphire eyes. "Listen, I know you want to help, but you can't help us. We live in a world where there are no heroes, only villains."

"And could you clue me in on whom this so called villain is?"

He rolled his eyes at the American nation. He was just as naïve and innocent as he remembered after all of these years. "Are you always this impatient? It will be only an hour until we reach HQ, could you be quiet for that long?"

"Fine," he pouted following the Canadian closely. "Who's at HQ?"

"Just a couple of other countries who survived," he said nonchalantly.

"Survived what?" Matthew shot him a glare with his dull purple eyes. "Right, I'm not supposed to ask. Okay, so who survived? Did Iggy?" Matthew raised an eyebrow at the latter part of the question. "Not that I care or anything," America said adverting his gaze. Secretly, he wanted to know his former caretaker was okay more than anyone at the moment. He thought to himself _if there was no revolution than he must be okay! Right?_

"Well, there's only a few that aren't colonies, me being one of them. There's France, Prussia, Denmark, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, Austria and Hungary."

"Is England okay?" he blurted. Curse his undying love for England.

He exhaled. "As far as we are concerned, the British Empire died almost 250 years ago."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: DUN DUN DUN. Cliffhanger. Yeah overprotective Canada! Almost as good as evil Canada, but maybe the parallel one is evil, taking him to the evil villian-thing to be killed. Or not. Mwahahahaha. Poor America, there's no parallel America or England, or is there? I dunno. Sorry to leave you with such an awful cliffhanger, but shortly I am going away until the end of July and wanted to update all of my stories before I do so. Also, do you like my cover? I don't own it, I found it on google images (because I have no talent drawing) so yeah. Not mine. But beautiful anyways. **Please leave a review to tell me what you think. Should I even continue? **Betweendreamsandrealityy (yes two Ys) is my tumblr name in case you are wondering, but I do not go on there too often. How are the other nations going to get America out of this mess? Why did England make this dumb universe anyways? And who is the villian?

Ember Hinote: Badass Canada is the best kind of Canada. Except maybe Snapped!Canada. That would be something...hehe. Thanks for the review!

wooftmnt: All questions that will be answered in time. Thanks for asking! But yeah, Parallel!Alfred is dead.

Warnings: Strong language.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.


	5. Chapter 4

"Couldn't you just make another portal or something?" Canada asked impatiently while pacing back and forth acrossEngland's main room. He had been restless ever since England explained the entire situation: a world with a rogue empire ten times more powerful than Communist Russia, and far scarier.

"You know he is not the greatest at magic," France remarked and received a dark glare from England. "You know it is true, you got us in this mess."

His hands fell into his face quite ashamed. "I know, I know," he repeated to himself.

"But there has to be _something_! You created it in the first place!"

"It's not that simple. The mirror is an alternate timeline. There are probably a million alternate timeline universes surrounding us! It could take thousands of portals and many worlds! And who knows what monsters reside in those," he rambled.

"So, we can't give up!" Canada exclaimed and rummaged through the hundreds of various colored spell booksEnglandplaced on the glass coffee table. Alas, none of the books had any useful spells or vital information about alternate universes.

"These alternate worlds, you say? They must be triggered by an event with two possible outcomes," France explained tapping his pointer finger on the dogtooth armrest fidgety.

"Yeah, so?" England asked defensively as if he was hiding something important from the other nations.

"You know the event, don't you?" Canada asked with realization exposed to his purple irises.

"And what if I do? It still wouldn't bring him back! Nothing would bring him back! He shouldn't have left in the first place!" he shouted angrily with tears streaming down his face.

"Calm down," France said and wrapped his arms around the English nation to comfort the crying nation.

"There is a world meeting in a few days. We will explain the situation to the other nations. They could help us," Canada explained holding his former caretaker's cold hands. "Okay?"

He sniffled. "Okay."

The former colony forced as genuine a smile as he could muster, for England's sake. "Good. In the meantime, we have a _lot_ of spell books to read!"

* * *

"Here's HQ," Matthew said breaking the tense silence between them after he claimed the British Empireto be dead. He pointed to a house completely engulfed by vines of ivy and whatnot. America could barely see anything thanks to the tall forestry circling the head quaters. "It's not much, I know, but nobody can find it, unless you are specifically looking for it." He opened ivy shielded door into into what America expected to have high tech gadgets and computers with various countries controlling them, like in Star Trek or Men In Black. However, the house was bleak and dressed up to mimic a colonial style house.

"Uh…is this it?" America asked looking around at the furniture. It didn't make any sense. It _was_ 2012, so why weren't they using any technological advancements?

"Mathieu?" a distinctively French voice asked holding up a candle uneasily. "Are you back?"

"Oui," he said closing the door behind with a slam. "With company."

He rolled his dull, blue eyes. "I told you that we shouldn't-" he stopped when another candle was lit before America's eyes. "It can't be," he said grabbing his bomber jacket's collar and sneered "you are dead! You're the reason we are all fucking-"

"No, Francis, it's not him. He is from a parallel universe. And he needs help fixing the portal to get back."

Francis reluctantly loosened his grip onAmerica's collar and sighed. He was much different than reality's France. His accent was much softer and his appearance was far messier. The real world France would never have his goatee turn into a mustache or have tangles clumping his quote-un-quote luscious blonde locks. In addition, his outfit consisted of mostly brown hues, something the real France would never be caught wearing, as it reminded him too much of England's passé style.

"So, where is this 'magical portal'?" Francis finally asked with a pout. It was apparent that Francis and the alternate America did not get along.

The American nation emptied out his backpack's contents onto the wooden dinner table to show the parallel nations.

"A bunch of broken glass?" he scorned and settled into one of the wooden chairs with just the slightest uncertainty in his left leg. He grabbed one of the shards in his hands and examined it. After a moment, he threw it back on the table haphazardly and remarked "how useless!"

"It _was_ a mirror," America sneered as if was obvious. He did not like this parallel Francis, for he was almost as obnoxious as he was, if not more.

"A mirror?" Francis asked with a raised dark gold eyebrow. "Haven't heard of that for a long time."

"You mean, you've heard of it before?"

"Your England, non? He has been here before," Francis explained as his expression softened.

His blue eyes widened. "He has?" _Why hasn't he told me about this place? _"Why would anyone come here?"

"It was a long time ago," Matthew explained reminiscing on pleasant memories. "Before this place became bleak."

"How exactly did _that_ happen?"

"You lost the American Revolution," the Canadian nation deadpanned.

"That still doesn't explain anything!" he yelled throwing his hands in the air. _So what if I lost the Revolution? It couldn't have affected history _this _much? _

"You idiot! The British Empire," Matthew shouted quite infuriated and threw his fists onto the wooden table, virtually breaking it in two slices. "He is our 'villain'."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: HATE HATE HATE this chapter. HATE~ Sorry, I have a terrible case of writer's block. I might end up rewriting this anyways. Urg. I wish I could make this chapter better, especially in the first part. Ug. I hope to get out of my worst chapters slump when I return. Hopefully, I will catch some inspiration. Or not. **Thanks for reviews! Keep it up! **Let's move this story right along so I can focus on some others I have in mind. Curse my infernal brain! Have a safe summer and I will see you again around early August!

Lilyflower1987: Yea~ Down with getting rid of MA fics!

Syrus07: I am literally squee-ing! Thanks so much!

Ember Hinote: You'll just have to see about Parallel!England or should I say the British Empire. Hehehe

Girl-of-Action: Ack! I have been foiled. :( I thought everyone would be surprised. Here's a cookie for you (: :)

qwerty avelat: Thank you. I will attempt to update more often!

Warnings: Strong language.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.


	6. Chapter 5

"What!?" America asked wide eyed banging his fists on the wooden table. No matter what world this was, there was no possible way America was going to be convinced that Iggy, _his _Iggy, was responsible for something this disastrous.

"I told you already, everything is different here," Matthew explained once more, his voice surging louder with each word. America's Canadian brother almost never raised his voiced that loud, with the exception of hockey games, which scared the American nation.

"Iggy wouldn't hurt anyone," he defended puckering his bottom lip.

"I'd beg to differ," Francis remarked and spat ebbing the urge to punch the American.

The American sneered "what did he do to you? Insult your wine?" He glared his sapphire eyes into the Frenchman's dull ones. In the sea of gray he could only see pain and suffering.

"He cut off my leg for helping _you_ in the revolution," he retorted and rolled up the left leg of his black trousers. Halfway down was a prosthetic metal leg attached to his hairy knee.

"Oh," America said with a cring and bit ashamed, his eyes fell into his pale hands. "I'm sorry."

He rolled down his trousers and scowled at the younger nation. "Well you should be."

Matthew rolled his dark colored eyes. "If you two are done being children, we have bigger matters to discuss."

"Can't that wait until morning?" Francis asked lighting one of his cigarettes with the flickering flame of the candle.

"Fine," Matthew scowled and waved his brother up from his seat and towards a staircase. "Come on; let me lead you to our room," he said leaving Francis alone to mull over his thoughts.

America nodded and complied, mostly because he was drained of energy himself. Dragging his body through a forest aimlessly tired the superpower as he followed, or should he say slumped to, his alternative brother up a flight of wooden steps. With each step, a louder creak was heard than from the previous step. On the second floor was a long hallway with over a dozen doorways which looked like a scene from a horror picture. The two stopped in front of the third doorway on the left side before Matthew opened it.

Inside was a small, mostly wooden, bedroom that looked like it could be dated back to the early 1900s. A dark wooden table sat with an unlit bronze candelabrum sat beside one of the two cots. The cots themselves were quite small and could only fit one average sized person. Along the back of the room was an overstuffed couch with a white sheet hugging over it. There was only one window in the entire room, albeit it was a bit small and barely shone any of the glimmers from the waxing crescent. The walls were bare of any portraits; however they were painted with brown flowery hues like most of England's house was.

"Hey America," Matthew piped up in asmall voice breaking the tense silence. He was sitting on the side of the cot, his muscular legs dangling down while his hands were preoccupied around his blood stained polar bear. "Could you tell me more about your England?"

America looked a bit shocked at his question. "Uh…well, sure!" he answered scratching the back of his neck. He didn't really have a clue where to begin so he just shot random things he loved about the personified country to him. "He is always really stuffy and shrewd and is overall prideful. Also, he likes magic and cooking but he isn't good at either. He is always wearing a green sweater vest which makes him look really old. Like ghostly old. And he acts like a proper Englishman, which I always hated. Oh yeah, he gets sick when it has anything to do with my independence, and 'specially around my birthday." He exhaled. "Man, I could talk about Iggy all day. What about yours?"

Matthew adverted his gaze to the ligneous groaning floor. "I'd rather not. You saw what he did to Francis' leg; that should explain enough."

"It doesn't," he deadpanned with an ice cold expression camouflaging his usually jovial appearance.

Matthew sighed warm air, his eyes falling into his hands. "Okay, well after the revolution, the British Empire kept all of his colonies extremely close; and nobody dared to revolt against him for a bit. He kept collecting more and more colonies from surrounding countries, mostly Spain. Then you tried to revolt again in the early 1800s and-"

"And what?"

"I burnt you. I killed you, okay! And it was all to fight for my own independence!" he shouted with tears streaming down his pained face and pooling on his polar bear's stained fur. "It's _my_ fault you're dead!"

America went over to Matthew's cot and rubbed circles on his back to comfort him, or at leastit would comfort his brother in the real universe. "It's okay, Mattie."

He avoided America's gaze, almost trembling when he stated "I could never forgive myself. I am the reason the British Empire took over the world."

America nodded and cuddled the crying Canadian in a tighter embrace.

* * *

"M-Mr. British Empire, sir," Ivan said shakily when approaching his kitchen. The kitchen was the British Empire's favorite spot, particularly because everything was hued in his favorite color: pink. Everything from the silverware to the curtains was a different shade of cherry pink.

The British Empire spun around with a smile plastering his pink lips. His powder blue apron was tied around his magenta sweater vest and nipped at his blue bowtie, which meant he was probably in the mist of cooking one of his delectable, yet grotesque, cupcakes. "Yes, my sweet?"

"A-A letter," the Russian said unable to spit out anything else.

"Hmm?" the strawberry blonde asked wiping bright colored frosting from his cheek with his snake-like tongue. "A letter for me? How thoughtful. Who is it from?"

He adverted his red gaze. "I do not know, sir."

He ruffled the Russians dark charcoal hair and sighed. "Very well, you are no use to me, crumpet."

Ivan nodded and scurried back to cleaning the household or whatever chore he was assigned for the day.

The British Empire smiled grabbing one of his butcher knives and sliced the white envelope open. His light blue eyes scanned over the note and a smile grew on his lips.

He thought to himself _so…America is back. I will just have to fix that._

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: Oh snap, character introduction! Okay, this definitely needs some explainations. 1) Since the history was altered because of the results from the American Revolution, I am making up the history, but will be historically based. 2) Since the American Revolution never happened, none of the ones in South/Latin America or France did either, since they were in fact inspired by the Americans. So that meant that Spain kept his colonies, which is why the BE wanted to have them. Also, it is true that after the revolution, England was nicer on its colonies to appease them in efforts to keep them, like giving constitutional parliaments to their colonies such as Canada, New Zealand and Australia. So since the revolution was lost, I made it that the BE was meaner to its colonies. What did he have to lose? Nothing stood in his way and nothing was strong enough to beat him! 3) America revolting for the second time refers to the war of 1812. I know that did not actually happen, since America had its independence, but it was a battle between Canada, America and England, hence why I used it. It is true that Canada burnt down D.C. [Yeah Canadians] which is why I made Canada kill America. Sorry /sadface/ 4) The alternate characters are their 2P personalities aka Arthur is a sugary sweet crazed lunatic while Francis and Matthew are badasses. If you don't know much about this, google it. All hail mighty google. 5) Russia, along with other countries, were quite weakened around the 1800s, which is when I decided that the BE collected most of his colonies. Hasn't anyone ever heard of the Crimean and Russo-Japanese war? Yes, Russia lost both of those, even though Russo-Japanese was in the 20th century. [YES I AM A HISTORY GEEK, given I wanted to be a history teacher since forever...] 6) All of his competition he killed such as China who was too egocentric too trade as seen in the Opium Wars. 7) Btw the British Empire is alternate England. I am not calling him Arthur like I did with the other countries. Sorry. 8) Also, if anyone has any art for this, please tell me. I am dying for a better cover! 9) I'm done. Look you got a history lesson and a crappy fanfic update (O7O) **Thank you so much for reviewing~ I really love hearing what you all have to say! **If any of this is wrong, please correct me. Also, you are always free to send suggestions! Next chapter will be a little more intense ;) and will also get back to the real world (which is something I should be doing). Hope you enjoyed!

Ember Hinote: I was hoping nobody expected him *MWAHAHAHAHA*

Yanelle: That's a good point. He's not actually dead, Matthew and Francis just didn't want America to go all 'hero-mode' and try to defeat him because nobody can defeat him. Thanks for reviewing and sorry, I will clear that up in a later chapter.

EclipsedDevil13: Yeah for badass countries! And about America and the British Empire, all in due time~

Evil By Choice Not By Blood: I am really bad at guessing too! Honestly, I wouldn't have expected it either...

Guest: Interesting...maybe? Thanks for the review!

Warnings: Strong language.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.


	7. Chapter 6

"England?" Canada asked through the heavy wooden door with France beside him. The two French speaking nations were awoken by his coughing that echoed through the house, hence why they were still dressed in their pajamas. Canada was wearing a pair of white and red plaid pajama pants and an extra-large American-style tee shirt to match. His golden locks were scruffy and a few strands stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Yeah…?" he asked in between another set of coughs.

France arched a gold eyebrow. France was still dressed in his clothes from the previous day consisting of a white regal button down shirt and unzipped black trousers. His usually sparkling blue eyes were bloodshot and fatigued from being woken during his quote-un-quote beauty sleep. "Are you okay, mon ami?"

"Of course I am bloody okay!" he shouted unconvincingly and sneezed twice.

"Do you want me to get some medicine? I could run-"

"No thanks, just leave me alone for the day," he said in a raspy voice and the coughing resumed heavier.

Francis pounded his fists against the birch white door and screamed "you better open this door or so help me I will-" he was cut off by Canada resting his pale hand on his slender shoulder.

"Leave him be. This is rough for him, with American Independence day and his disappearance…" he said his voice trailing off into whispers. He didn't want to admit it either but he missed his brother terribly, and having his birthday to remind them didn't help at all.

"Wait! What's today's date?" Arthur yelled with panic in his voice.

"July 3rd," Canada recited. _Two days after mine, which everyone happened to forget_, he thought to himself.

"Bloody fuck," he cussed under his breath and coughed a bit more. He green covers off his body and staggered towards the door. "Tomorrow is America's party."

"So…?" Canada asked a bit irritated that everyone remembered America's but not his.

"Don't you gits get it?" England panted finally opening the door appearing more untamed and disheveled than ever. "Everyone is going to be there; everyone but America."

France suggested "why don't we just tell them? Maybe we could get some help!"

"Yes, let's just tell nations like Russia that the most powerful superpower in the world is missing," England said dripping with sarcasm. If anyone actually found out that he was absent, the other nations might want to steal his territories and a full blown war could emerge.

"What do you propose we do?" France asked.

An evil smirk lightened up the British nation's face while he stared at Canada. "I think I have an idea."

Canada yelped "maple."

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Canada said with a sigh. He was wearing an oversized grey tee shirt tucked into a pair of America's beige trousers. Swathing over his shoulders was one of America's many leather bomber jackets that he never went without and perched in front of his blue contacts was a pair of America's square glasses.

France adjusted his American flag tie and exclaimed "but you look so legitimate."

Canada rolled his eyes knowing Francis was right. "Where is England? The party is about to begin."

He frowned and flicked a strand of Canada's hair that they gelled to represent "Nantucket". "England doesn't come to these things, remember? Anyhow, he's in America's room looking through his magic books." France stepped back to admire his work with a smug smile. "Okay, now that you look like him you have to act like him."

"So I have to go around announcing that I am a hero and eat a bunch of burgers?" Canada deadpanned teetering America's large glasses.

France looked a bit shocked that Canada always thought of his brother that way. "Uh…yeah. Pretty much."

He shrugged. "Sounds easy enough for me."

"That's the spirit!" France shouted and patted the Canadian nation's back. "Now go out there and impress everyone!"

Canada sighed and pinced the bridge of his nose before he was shoved into America's backyard to the crowd of nations. "Hey guys, the hero has arrived," he announced and laughed obnoxiously while standing on the porch.

The other nations turned around and smiled at "America".

_They are actually smiling at me, _Canada thought waving to all of the nations that never once gave him the time of day. _They can actually see me!_

For the next few hours, Canada mingled with all of the countries and, surprisingly, detested being the center of attention. He hated how every other second they would either yell at him for screwing their economy or ask where England was.

"Hey everyone, fireworks!" France shouted which made Canada exhale in relief. Honestly, Canada was sick of being "everyone's favorite hero" and eating a hamburger every five seconds. _Maybe being invisible was a good thing,_ he mused to himself.

Albeit he was a bit tipsy from all of those drinks, even though he claimed that only French wine could get him drunk, France collected all of the fireworks Hong Kong brought over and lit a match to set the brightly colored sparks into the obscuring dusk.

As if it was some sort of song, everybody "Oohed" and "Ahhed" at each different design spangling and sparkling the darkness of the night.

England looked through the window from his spot cocooned in America's starred and striped blankets, his emerald eyes glazed over at the red white and blue fireworks. He couldn't help but to sob warm tears and reflect that he might never get to hold the younger nation ever again. _I-I love you, America, _he mutely thought to himself, praying that America could read his mind. He coughed once more and added _I always have. _

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: Before I talk about the story, I would like to dedicate this chapter to my sister who just left for university today. Good luck~ Anyhow, this was an angsty angst chapter. And it was so short :( Sorry if you thought it would be some dramatic action-y climax scene, but that will be later in the fic AKA next chapter. Poor Canada, right? So in most fics they are all like: Canada wants to be America because he is jealous or whatever. However, I recently reread the manga and webcomic and realized that Canada actually hates every quality about America and hates when he is mistaken for him, so why would he enjoy being him? (But I have to admit, he hates being forgotten). **Before you press the little red X, please review. I love hearing how I can improve~ **Next chapter will be back in the alternative universe so get excited. More 2P characters! Hasta la pasta~

Dixie C Jones: YES! OMG YESSSSSS

Ember Hinote: *blushes* thanks and yeah for history~

ellaysia: yes. I just have so many 2P!England feels.

Dolce Latte van Creme: to clear up some confusion: the technology is around late 1800s to early 1900s-ish. except for the BE which is further along like 1950s or whatever because they control the world. and no world wars since the world was practically at the BE's command. I might end up changing that, but for now I hope that answered your question.

EclipsedDevil13: well Canada is a badass and was BE's colony so he did whatever he commanded for his own independence. and yes, look up 2P! I am so obsessed with it~

Warnings: Strong language.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.


	8. Chapter 7

"Good morning, America," Francis said, his attitude oozed with acerbity; and his black loafers propped on the kitchen table while his wan lips were preoccupied with a confection. He looked quite overdressed for morning garbed in a sophisticated mauve button down shirt with black trousers and his stubble completely shaved. If it wasn't for his sour attitude, America would have guessed he had a date arranged for that evening.

America rolled his sapphire eyes and pulled out the wooden chair next to his alternative brother. Albeit he was still dressed in a white nightgown, a flimsy little thing, but he didn't think it would matter since he never left the headquarters anyhow. "So, _Mattie_, got any more letters?"

Francis frowned as Matthew replied exhaustedly "just one from Gil. He might bring some others in a few days."

"Awesome!" America exclaimed and punched the air with his fist with the energy no one expect him to have so early in the morning. "I'd love to meet the others."

"Well don't get your hopes up, kid," Francis' scratchy voice sneered and lit his cigarette with the flame of the candle. "You could be gone by then."

He crossed his arms over his chest and scorned "I'd love to, except the portal's broken."

"We're working as hard as we can," Matthew explained jadedly.

Before America or Francis could refute, their idle chatter was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.

Matthew's dull, brick-red orbs extended in fear. "Go upstairs, _now_," he snarled at America virtually hauling him towards the steps.

He pouted but complied. "Fine," the American said and deliberately dragged himself heavily up the creaking stairs. He never got to do anything here besides eat, sleep and hide. He was supposed to be a hero, not a damsel waiting to be recused in a high tower, or in his case a headquarters in the middle of who-knows-where.

Matthew opened the door, gravely, dumbfounded to see a hue of pink clouding his vision. "Why hello, Matthew," a voice said in a honeyed voice. He was wearing his usual light pink shirt, magenta vest and powder blue bowtie tucked into beige trousers which only concluded to be one person: the British Empire.

His pupils dilated with anxiety._ How the fuck did he find this place? _He thought to himself.

"Uh…hi?"

"Is that any way to speak to your brother," he hissed, his tone immediately curdling and tugged on Matthew's stray curl.

"Nice to see you again, big brother," Matthew muttered in a sardonic tenor until the pain ended. "What brings you here?" he asked smoothing door his dirty blonde coils and watched as the blue eyed blonde stepped into the house, uninvited, and pulled out one of the chairs.

"I am currently looking for someone, maybe Francis knows what I am talking about," he suggested raising both of his eyebrows at the French nation.

"He doesn't," the Canadian answered for him and shot him a dark glare.

The English empire raised one of his untamed eyebrows. "Oh really? Should I read you the letter he sent a few days ago?"

"What!?" Matthew barked snatching the piece of stationary his former caretaker dangled in between his blood stained fingers. His eyes danced over every word, every syllable, every letter. "How…?" he asked lost for words that Francis would betray and deceive him this way.

The empire smiled sinisterly at this and licked the coppery blood from his fingertips with his venomous tongue. "Now dear Francis, I run a very busy schedule. Fetch the boy," he demanded dourly.

"We don't have any boy," Matthew lied slowly staring deep into his once loving brother's sky blue irises.

He shook his head allowing his strawberry blonde strands to sprinkle into his face. "Matthew, haven't I taught you not to lie. Then again, you are the one who killed your own brother."

"You commanded me too!"

"Now is not the time for this conversation," he said coyly and waved one of his hands. "Francis, fetch me the boy!"

Francis nodded ignoring Matthew's eyes widen bleakly as he listened to the British Empire's commands.

"Let me go!" he heard a distinct voice belt from the top floor.

_America,_ Matthew thought, his heart sinking into his stomach.

He screamed again and flung his limbs in every direction, struggling to injure him with his brute strength. Alas, the alternative nation was too powerful for him.

Within seconds, Francis came back down the stairs dragging America by his pale wrist. He threw him to the floor with disgust allowing him to land on his, now scraped, knees.

"Excellent work, Francis," he said with a sugary smile and clapped his hands together in admiration. "As I promised, you will get your reward."

Without another word, a blue glow engulfed Francis' prosthetic leg and one of flesh grew in its place.

"You can't do this!" Matthew finally belted watching in agony as a mix of fear and anger roiled in America's eyes, the same expression he saw before killing the alternative America.

"Oh, but there is no one to stop me, is there?" the British Empire retorted with a wry grin.

The alternative England bent down to the American personification, his baby blue eyes scanned the younger country. Close enough to feel his sugary icy breath with every word he stated "you are mine now."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: Oh snaaap~ the British Empire has arrived! Now I can finally put in some action or whatever. Do not fret, this is not the climax or even close to the ending. I still have around ten chapters (or less) until the end. And maybe a sequel. Yeah for sequels. And poor Matthew. [Why am I always making bad things happen to him?] As much as he tried, he could not protect America forever. Plot twist: Francis was the one who sent the letter in the previous chapters because he is evil! DUN DUN DUN! Now every alternative nation America has met is evil and betrayed him. Okay any more questions? Although this is short, I like this chapter much better than the other, it was just so angsty and filler-ish but I had to keep you updating on both worlds. And I actually don't despise the cliff-hanger ending! It's a first (Q_Q) **Thank you for reading and reviewing; I love you all! **Warning, I'm going to be all corny now. What will happen to our beloved American hero? Will the real nations be able to save him in time? Find out in the coming chapters.

Puppets' Master: history lovers unite! I am obsessed with 2P!characters too! maybe there will be some more 2P!Russia in the future...I just love writing him 3

Iceland's senpai: at least I know that I am writing him correctly :) thanks for the review~

Warnings: Strong language and a sprinkle of violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia.


	9. Chapter 8

"I am _never_ doing that again," Canada stated and plopped himself beside France on America's couch. He placed the two white mugs steaming with coffee on the low table in front of them and exhaled through his gritted teeth. He did feel a bit awkward waltzing into his brother's house uninvited and all, but the three nations couldn't let the others know about his disappearance. Anyhow, there was a world meeting coming up in Washing D.C. which gave justification for staying a tad longer in his house in Virginia; not that he would mind anyways.

France continued to rub his temples and suckled down the warming liquid feeling his insides heat up after a night passed out on the white loveseat. "I agree, mon amour."

"I swear if I have to eat another hamburger or scream 'I'm the hero' I am going to puke," he said pretending to gag.

France led out a labored chuckle, believing he might actually vomit, and fixed his sea blue eyes on his coffee. "You were pretty convincing though."

Canada threw a white flowery napkin at the European nation and scowled. "And that was because you were drunk most of the time."

He waved his hand in the air carelessly and placed the simmering coffee on a coaster. "Might as well celebrate right."

The Canadian nation slapped his arm leaving a small red mark on his unblemished skin. "By the way, where's England, eh? It's almost noon and he is usually up by now."

France shrugged. "Probably still moping. Or having a 'spot of tea'," he said in a mimicking English accent.

The younger country rolled his indigo through his circular rimmed glasses.

"I've got it!" England announced rushing down the steps with a black book in his hands, as if on cue.

"Look who finally decided to show up," France muttered into his drink. "You look awful, by the way, as usual."

Canada slapped his arm once more and muttered "be nice."

He rolled his bright green eyes knowing France was right. His sheen gold hair clumped in wiry strands and dark circles traced around his dull green irises. But right now, he couldn't be bothered with France's nonsense. "I think I found the spell!"

Canada's eyes widened in astonishment. "That's amazing, England. Do you need any help?"

He nodded once. "I need you to move all of the furniture and cut off all light sources while I draw a magic circle."

The two French speaking nations nodded once and began moving America's furniture to the corners of the room. Then they draped the windows using black sheets from the linen closet while England drew on the wooden tiles in scratchy white chalk.

"Alright." England closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of the six burning candles. His raspy voice began chanting and the intricate circle began to radiate hues of white and red.

"_Inflamus superbiam meam_

_Intexet mea auaricie_"

The book's spine was a bit tattered, the ink lettering was wearing off and the pages were yellow but aside from that he continued to croon in a dark essence.

_"Mutare cursum _

_Fatum speculis ligare." *_

When the reciting ended, the English nation fell to the floor out of sheer exhaustion.

* * *

"Keep up with me, darling," the British Empire noted watching the American drag his feet across the forest, his breathing becoming labored. The American was changed out of his nightgown and into proper clothing: a black button down dress shirt and beige trousers that used to belong to Matthew. On his arched back was his camping bag filled with the shards of the mirror and his legendary bomber jacket.

He didn't speak any words, which the alternative England knew he would have to change, but that would be reserved for a later date. His new toy would bring him much pleasure as his others were almost too damaged to amuse him anymore.

"So how's your precious Iggy?" he asked with a raised thick eyebrow knowing he caught America's attention with his silly nickname. "Still as weak as ever, I suppose?"

His blue eyes narrowed dangerously wanting to strangle the British nation if his hands weren't bound together by magic. "What do you know about him?"

He tossed his head back and laughed at the hidden blue of the sky. "You really are daft, aren't you? Who do you think created this world?"

America clenched his fists turning his knuckles a pallid white. "He would never-"

"Never what?" he asked dangerously close to touching the American's soft lips. Through the streaming sun, the American personification noticed his face was peppered with tiny freckles pooling mostly near his cheeks and nose. "Never create an alternative world so he could have his one prized possession forever?" He paused allowing the words to linger on his sugary breath. "He's the reason we are all like this! But what can we expect?" he said waving his hand in the haze. "I could make you happy; happier than you would ever be with that monster of a nation."

"You're the only monster!" he shouted unable to contain his wrath any longer and knew, without a doubt, that he would instantly regret it.

The British nation's powder blue eyes widened, and then smirked with pleasure. The American noticed his irises began to change color, swirling his usual pale cobalt with a harsh baby pink. He slapped the American's face causing a line of blood to trickle down his face and his glasses to slide down his nose. "I'm going to have fun breaking you, aren't I?"

The American breathed through his nostrils heavily.

"Don't worry, you will come around in time," he said leering slyly and lifted the American's blood stained chin. He licked the blood off his fingertips before stating "they always do."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: Konnichiwa darling. Short chapter, I know, I know. I just wanted to update before classes restart. Urg. Anyhow, it was an awkward part to leave you in the first part, but I am saving the results for next chapter. MWAHAHA. Also if you are curious of the 2P!England and some of the other 2P!Character design go to beekwhy dot tumblr dot com. Literally her art is amazing. Not mine. Hers. Go to her blog. I am obsessed. I just love writing him soooo much! Ack. **The box of tomato's fairy bestows pasta and hugs to all of my great readers and reviewers! **Also check out my profile for this new poll. I've always wanted to write a Disney inspired fanfic (PLOT BUNNIES GO AWAY) so I want my readers to decide which one :) I'd be really appreciative if you did. Sayonara minnasan.

*Translations:

_Inflate my Pride_

_Intertwine my Greed_

_Change the course_

_Fate mirrors bind_

(Google translate don't kill me)

Literally he is trying to summon the spirits of Pride and Greed (as those are the reasons behind why he created the alternative universe in the first place) and create another mirror to 'change the course' of events.

Ember Hinote: thanks and hahahahaha *angry mob* GET FRANCIS! and for Alfie's sake, let's hope the BE is nice. (Who am I kidding, he's evil!)

Puppets' Master: I know, and his luck just doesn't seem to get any better. stupid BE and his stupid cupcakes. That would be bad if he ate one...thanks for the review!

Iceland's senpai: /sadface/ arigato.

pandas-go-rwar: i hope you are satisfied with this chapter :)

Dogsrule: yes! 2p!Italy's ftw.

EclipsedDevil13: that made complete sense and sounds interesting. now that he's the BE's "pet" who knows what he is going to do~ thank you for reviewing!

Warnings: A recipe for disaster.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia or 2P!Characters.


	10. Chapter 9

"Did it work?" England asked weakly fluttering his electric eyes open. The late afternoon sun streamed through America's bedroom window blinded the green eyed English nation forcing him to wince in pain.

"Depends on what you were trying to do," Canada explained ringing out a washcloth and placing it on England's forehead.

England flinched when the icy water splattered onto his forehead forcing him to curl up in the red, white and blue sheets of America's California king size bed for warmth. "What did I do?"

He shrugged and continued to dab the white cloth on his forehead. "You made some light show and then you fainted," he said nonchalantly.

"That's it?" he asked dejectedly wiping Canada's fragile hand and the cloth away. England could swear he saw the mirror appear before his green eyes right before he passed out.

Canada exhaled a stream of warm air. "We can always try later tonight, _if_ you have enough energy."

"What is today's date!?" he asked frantically and sprang up into a sitting position cascading the blankets to pool around the foot of the bed.

Canada placed a hand on his chest and lowered him back into the pillows. "Calm down, it is July 6th," he assured and tucked his former caretaker into one of the spangled blankets. "The world meeting is not for two days."

England nodded in relief before looking around the room and asked weakly "where's France?"

"Just making some food for us."

He gazed into the Canadian's violet eyes only to see America in them. The America he found in a golden meadow. The America that chose him over Francis as his guardian. The America that he taught how to use a musket. The America that fought against him for his independence. The America that helped him in both world wars. The America that relentlessly tried to contain Communism. The America that always tried to be a hero. The America he loved all of those years through and through. In Canada's eyes, he did not only see the picture perfect portrait of everyone's favorite hero. No, he saw something more cherished.

_His_ America.

"What if we can't get him back?"

Canada sighed and placed a hand on his slender shoulder. "You shouldn't think like that." He forced a half smile through the tears that pricked his eyes and said "I remember the last time you said that to me."

England cocked an eyebrow curiously, bands of warm teardrops threatening to flow down his flushed cheeks. "And what did you say?"

"I said that he would come back and do you want to know why?"

England nodded once.

Canada kneeled down to the side of the bed and whispered in his left ear "because he loves you."

* * *

"Sir, you are home," a replica of Russia said after bowing his head politely to the British Empire as the two entered his house, or should he say mansion. The exterior and interior were both plastered in either an obnoxious shade of pink or a creamy white causing the American nation to shield his blue eyes. This house seemed as if it belonged to a sweet little old grandmother instead of a demon like the British Empire.

He nodded and licked his pink sugar coated lips. "Yes, Ivan, go make a room for mister America here while I give him a treat for being such a good lad on our walk," he said grabbing the American's chin and caressed it with his saccharine fingers.

America scowled watching the alternative Russia nod and comply with his demands. Ivan was shorter than the Russian America knew and had an alteration of dark grey hair instead of platinum silver. In addition, his usually beige coat, pink scarf and purple eyes were black as midnight to parallel to his menacing aura. His overall physique was smaller and trimmer than the superpower America was used to.

"Now, America, are you hungry for dinner?" he asked in a mawkish voice with a shrewd grin growing on his freckled face.

America stood dumbfounded and blinked once in the house, too prideful to answer the question.

"Answer me, America," he said through clenched teeth seconds away from smacking the other nation across the face once more.

He nodded once but refused to speak any words.

"Good," the British Empire began and dragged him into the kitchen by his wrist, his pink coated nails clawing into his pale skin. "Now you sit here while I prepare," he said throwing his body into a pink lace seat in the shape of a heart and hummed a unharmonious melody. "Lovino!" he called in a sing song voice into the hallway.

"Yes, sir?" alternative Romano asked flamboyantly peeking his head through the oval shaped doorway. Instead of the usual aggressive Romano, this Lovino was submissive to any of alternative England's demands. In addition, his eyes were a blood stained red and his hair, which still had the same obnoxious curl, was dyed a flamboyant blonde.

"I want you to fetch some ingredients for me. Sugar, flour and my wand," he said casually and cracked two eggs into a clear mixing bowl.

"Yes sir," the blonde said bowing his head to the empire and skipped off. In minutes, he reappeared with the ingredients and set them on one of the pink counters before leaving.

The British Empire took out a few extra bowls and pans before asking "now, would you like vanilla or strawberry?"

America sat silently, his arms locked across his chest. His mind was too preoccupied with his England.

"Strawberry it is, America," he said answering for the nation and dropped more items into the bowl. He dipped his fingers into the mixture and lapped his venomous tongue over his thin fingers. "Now, my little pet, next time I would like you to answer me when I talk to you, got it?" he commanded moving on from stirring the mixture with a spoon to casting a spell with his wand.

"Yes, sir," America answered with his blue gaze set at the white tiled floor.

The British Empire ruffled his wheat blonde hair and smiled brightly. "Good lad. Now you get your reward: a batch of cupcakes!" he exclaimed with a clap and held out a perfect batch of strawberry pink cupcakes. He began humming a wordless tune and took a seat beside the nation, his sky blue eyes fixated on his new pet and a devious leer plastering his face.

America hesitantly reached for one and placed a white frosted cupcake in his mouth. To his horror, his mouth began to water just by looking at the perfect cupcakes. He knew his England would murder him if he did not eat the food he so generously made and feared what would happen if he refused the British Empire's cupcakes. His tongue licked extra icing from his lips, which actually tasted rather delicious.

Suddenly, his body felt weak and the world began to blur greyer until there was only black.

* * *

The American nation awoke in a peculiar and dim room with a figure shadowing over him. "America?" the voice asked in a light Russian accent, his large hands brushing over his forehead to feel if the nation had any fever.

"Ivan?" he asked blinking to focus his vision. Whatever was in that cupcake made his whole body numb making him unable to move from wrapped messily in a pink bed.

"Da," he answered in his native tongue then leaned closer to the American. "Whatever you do, don't let the British Empire get the mirror, okay? No matter what."

America nodded still dazed from the mysterious ingredient hidden in the cupcake. His voice was a bit raspy when he asked "how did you know about that?"

"Because I met your England once." America's mouth opened to refute but was interrupted when Ivan continued "it was a long time ago. The other servants and I can help you fix it, but it may take a long time. Just behave for my master, okay?"

_Master? _America thought mutely to himself. _Is that what he is?_

"Why…why are you helping me?"

He looked down at the nation tangled helplessly in the sheets and answered "because I do not want you ending up like us."

Weakly, America responded "thank you."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: Longish chapter and it is a bit boring. So much UsUk angst on England's part. Urg. I think I will make something exciting start to happen next chapter. More alternative universe and less angsty reality. Yeah for 2P!Romano though and more 2P!Russia, although Ivan is giving me this weird vibe. Anyone else feel it? *shivers* Whatever. I guess some things never change whether 2P or 1P. And America did find out the consequences of eating one of the BE's cupcakes. Also I love the BE's home 3 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or added this story to their favorites or alert list! You are more awesome than the Awesome Trio! **[This story now has 50+ followers. ACK. Thank you all!] Notice: on 30.9.12 I am closing the Disney inspired fic poll so get voting because you only have one month left~ Also, does anyone know any good art for this fic? I have been looking around and I can't really find one satisfactory...Urg. Anyways I wonder what the British Empire has in store for America. I guess you will have to find out next chapter xD

Dogsrule: *shrugs* we'll see...

EclipsedDevil13: in this world, a bit. 2P!England is a character of his own (the personality ect); however in this fic his power and colonies is if the England stayed an empire.

Puppets' Master: OMG me too! when I was a kid my favourite character on ATLA was firelord Ozai :/

pandas-go-rwar: *claps* yea~ I honestly thought this was a bit overused but thank you!

ncalkins x2: maybe a little ;) or maybe just implied *shrugs* I am not sure yet. I am honestly writing this as it goes...

Warnings: Angst, language, and poisonous cupcakes.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia or 2P!Characters.


	11. Chapter 10

"Ah, America did you enjoy your little nap?" the British Empire asked. He noticed the American nation was awake and plopped himself at the edge of his bed with a viciously sweet smile plastered on his pale face.

"I guess…" he said, which was a complete lie. His entire body still felt a bit stiff, but that wasn't the worst of the pain. His mind kept wondering about how the other nations in reality were doing. Especially England. In reality, the green eyes English nation has constantly been on his mind since he arrived to this hell of a universe. Did England even miss him or acknowledge America was missing?

The strawberry blonde seemed surprised with his answered and smiled. "Very well. Now that you have rested, I would like to begin your _work_."

"And that would be…?" America asked skeptically. If that was so-called rest, he feared what work would be.

The British Empire grinned deviously. "First off, you must call me Iggy."

"As if this all isn't enough," he blurted without thinking and quickly regretted his actions.

He stroked the younger's sandy blonde hair harshly and pulled strands of wheat blonde hair from their roots. "Oh, America," he said far too sweetly. "You still miss your world, don't you?"

"No," he lied slowly and unconvincingly.

He raised a thick blonde eyebrow. "You don't? Oh dear, that is a lie isn't it?" He pulled on America's stray piece of hair he deemed 'Nantucket'. His voice harshened when he growled "you do not lie to your caretaker!"

He winced. "Yes…I-Iggy…"

"What a good lad you've been," the British Empire said as his voice returned to its normal tone. He slowly removed his grip on America's hair. Then clapped his hands together and exclaimed "well, you better get started with your assignments."

"Which is...?" he asked hesitantly allowing the words to linger in the tense atmosphere.

"Oh nothing you aren't new to. Just be my little brother."

The American nation opened his mouth to refute, but remembered Ivan's scolding words. If he was submissive, maybe the British Empire would eventually stop. "Yes, Iggy," he muttered.

He patted the blue eyed blonde's hair as if he were a pet. Next he might wake up with a collar around his neck, or living in a cage, as if he wasn't already. "Now run along, my little colony. Tea would be nice right now, and make it how I like it." He leaned in to America's left ear and whispered "extra sugar."

America nodded absentmindedly and scurried off to the kitchen.

* * *

"Is it done?" America asked quietly, sounding more like his Canadian counterpart than himself, upon entering his room.

In the bleak shadows of his chambers, Ivan turned around revealing an almost perfect replica of the mirror that shattered in what seemed like ages ago. "Nyet, America. One more day ought to do it."

"America~" the empire called out with a devious smile from a spot on his love seat in the parlor. The two weeks he had his "brother" under his control were not as satisfying as he imagined. He did not speak other than simple commands and barely looked up from the floor. Had he finally cracked?

No, the superpower couldn't crack. It was a matter of pride. He obviously had some weakness…

"Y-yes, master?" American asked, his shoulders trembling as he walked into the parlor.

"Could you give me a back rub? I feel a bit tense?" he relaxed onto the love seat and sighed.

America nodded mutely. He cracked his thin fingers before massaging the empire's back.

The British Empire grabbed the fur collar to the American nations' jacket and embraced him into a passionate kiss.

America tightened his eyes, forcing himself to think pleasant thoughts of returning home when the empire's vile, slimy tongue danced around his own. His sugary lips bit onto the superpower's chapped ones, lusting for a taste of his coppery blood.

"America is something the matter?" he asked with a smirk, his breath prolonged by his heavy breathing. "You usually aren't like this."

"N-No," America said, still trembling slightly.

"Then join me on the couch," he said seductively, his voice tantalizingly sweet.

America nodded and sat beside the alternative version of England. His breathing became labored when the British Empire snaked a hand up his button down shirt, caressing his sun kissed skin.

"My, my," the British Empire said licking his lips. His hands began to slowly remove the American's bomber jacket, sliding the leather off his broad shoulders. "Aren't you hot in this?"

"No," America muttered allowing his shirt to be unbuttoned slowly.

"No?" he asked quite puzzled. "Maybe I should turn up the heat," he whispered seductively into his left ear.

America shuddered as his shirt was stripped from his body.

He pulled on America's belt loops to his black trousers and pursed his lips in frustration. He barely got responses anymore. It was almost useless to play games with a broken toy.

"You miss your England, don't you?" he asked hoping to get a response.

Instead, America answered robotically "no."

"What have I told you about lying?" he asked sweetly and seductively, tracing circles onto America's bare chest.

"I will not tell lies," he replied mechanically.

The British country hummed "now answer my question."

He looked into his icy blue eyes. A sea of cold, icy shattered dreams replaced what should be lively emerald orbs. "No. I do not miss E-England," he said choking on the word itself.

The British Empire scowled. He was far too prideful, indeed. "America, you are a weak and pathetic nation. Your _Iggy_ has not raised you to my anticipation. I expected better of you, really, I have."

America nodded absently.

"I have no use for you anymore. Be gone, retire to your chambers."

America nodded and rushed off to hide his tears, forgetting completely that his torso was completely naked.

The British Empire frowned. There was something off with America; there was no doubt he was going to find answers. And he knew exactly where to start.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: It's been a while, hasn't it? Urg. I feel bad because I really love this story but my classes are just so overwhelming so the quality is really shitty. And last chapter was really long so to balance it out I have this terribly short chapter., I think that's how it works. Enough of my rambling and on with talking about the story. Time skip, right? Well...this story is finally winding down, maybe five chapters or more? I hope you realize that the BE has been raping America and torturing him, and now he has finally cracked. Or at least, that is how he is acting. Unless...he really is broken. DUN DUN DUN. LOL. And yeah...this is awful. Really awful. I'll end up rewriting this chapter. Urg. INSPIRATION COME BACK~ **THANK YOU FOR THE AWESOME FEEDBACK I LOVE YOU ALL! **Next chapter will be the beginning of the climax! YEAH~ I hope that after this dumb update, you will still stick around~

Dogsrule: More than you think )

Puppets' Master: Yes~ YES~ ALL YES! I NEED MORE 2P!ROMANO AND ITALY IN THIS!

Iceland's senpai: Maybe or maybe not...

HI: you'll just have to wait and see ;)

Warnings: I don't even.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia or 2P!Characters.


	12. Chapter 11

"Are you sure this is gonna work?" America whispered anxiously, his voice was raspy and void of life. Each day, it seemed like his voice was becoming softer and softer until. This made a few of the others wonder how long it would take before he would completely break, similar to how all of them had.

"Da," Ivan said softly. A smile crept on his lips as he said it, content that he would not be harmed for speaking in his native tongue.

"Okay," the American nation said as his dull blue eyes watched Ivan. The parallel nation's hands were sturdy as he moved the glass pieces with a small glow of purple light emitting from his palms. The mirror was almost fixed, with only a few minor pieces missing from the edges. It would only be another few minutes or so until it would be completely fixed and he would return to his world.

However, below that very room, the British Empire glanced at the clock hanging sideways on the wall. "Seven?" he said aloud with a raise eyebrow. His hands stopped mixing creamy colored batter and placed the wooden spoon on the cherry-pink counter. He figured the effects of the poison would have worn off of his newest toy and decided to surprise him with another gift.

The British personification stealthily walked upstairs and opened the door to America's chamber without any falter.

The British Empire stood dumbfounded in the square shaped archway to America's bedroom. His tray of earl grey tea along with the pastel frosted cupcakes tumbled to the floor in front of his black suede dress shoes.

Alfred turned around trembling, his mind already imagining the possible tortures the alternate England would impose on his new colony.

The strawberry blonde's smile quickly faded as he shook his head in a scowling manner and wagged his finger back and forth. "Oh my, someone has been naughty."

Before American could blink, the British Empire wrapped his sugar coated fingers around his wrist, his nails clawing into his sun kissed skin leaving small red marks up and down his once muscular arm. "Now you know what happens when colonies misbehave."

America nodded slowly without speaking. He wished he could have said 'I'm sorry' and explain himself like he used to do with Iggy. He could explain how he never thought he would be up and looking for him at this hour. Or explain how he forced Ivan to help him, despite that being a lie. Or tell how he wanted to go home, away from this nightmare. Then England would scold him before bringing him in for a hug.

However this was his home, and he was not England.

The American nation's eyes squeezed shut as if to shield himself from the pain. He just wished he was back home. Back with England. _His_ England.

The British Empire bent down and picked up one of the white porcelain shards from the broken teacup. His eyes swirled from a tart blue to a poisonous pink. A smile graced his plump lips as he ripped the American's flimsy, button down shirt off his back in one sharp tug and littered it on the carpet. Red whip marks littered the back as the empire dug the sharp shard into his back.

The nation did not shriek of pain as the empire supposed, and burrowed the shard deeper into his once unspoiled skin. Each cut was precise, as if it was some sort of malicious art to him.

The British Empire frowned at his colony's behavior, hoping for at least a whimper if not a scream. "I am unimpressed with you. However…" he said, while his bluish pink orbs lingered on the fixed mirror. "I have important matters to attend to."

The last image America saw was the brightly dressed nation disappearing through the mirror before his sapphire eyes rolled backwards from loss of blood.

* * *

"I-I brought you tea," Canada stuttered creaking the door to America's diffusely lit study and propped his blond head through. In the waning crescent's trifling quantity of light, his lilac eyes scanned the room in search of the British nation. The room was just as he had remembered: an American themed bed, all of the variations of the American flags taped to his wall and a mahogany desk where he usually "did" his paper work.

"No thank you," the English nation muttered from his spot in the red desk chair, his voice muffled by his head locked in his arms. Stacks of papers littered the desk at where he sat, quite disheveled, something that was very unlike the English nation. This made the younger question is current mental stability. Not to mention that he denied his favorite beverage.

Canada went over and comforted his former caretaker. He hadn't seen him this sad since…well the Revolution. "We mustn't be late for the last of the world conference," he reminded him. He always remembered how England would take hours just to get ready for one of these conferences, although he never looked much different than he did right after he woke up, besides the attire.

He slammed his fists down on the desk, tempting to slice the desk in two precarious pieces. "I am sick of this!" he said, his voice slightly slurred.

"Have you been drinking?" the younger nation asked picking up the shattered glass with his free hand from the floor and cupped it into his hands.

"No," he lied with a hiccup.

"England," he said releasing the glass back on the floor and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Get off!" he shouted. A tear streamed down his face as the former caretaker slapped the younger's hand away.

Canada's eyes widened with fear, and nodded. His hands gripped tightly on the tray, the tea cup threatening to break as it clattered in its saucer.

"Get out of my sight!"

Canada scowled. He was sick of all the nations forgetting about him, especially England, despite all the caring things he had done for him. He bawled his hands into fists, turning his knuckles a shade of ashen white, and shouted "you're not the only one dealing with this!"

"Oh yes, because he just _loves _you," he said sourly and turned around to face the Canadian nation.

"This doesn't give you an excuse to act like an ass to us!"

England's green eyes widened, as if those words turned his sober. Within an instant, he slapped the Canadian's cheek. "Get out!"

Frightened, the violet eyed nation nodded and left the room without any other words.

England looked to his hands, and locked his arms around his knees. _What have I done!? _

He buried his face in his hands sobbing silent tears, the only sound were his faint whimpers which eventually turned into light snores.

When he eventually awoke from his slumber, his head was throbbing slightly. He hauled his ponderous legs off of the chair and heaved his lethargic body down the stairs.

From the top of the staircase, he noticed a figure through the morning's sunrise sitting alone of the couch. "Look, I'm really sorry," he began sincerely and descended down the steps.

The figure smiled acerbically and licked his fingers greedily. "I'm sorry but Canada couldn't be here right now."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

Author's Notes: And just when you think he's going home...MWAHAHA! By the way that figure at the end is the British Empire, just in case it was confusing. Okay is this too rushed? Yes. But I think this is around the middle of the story. Maybe a bit closer to the end. *shrugs* I don't know anymore. I want to rewrite this but I am lazy and tired and I want to finish the rest of my stories so I'm sorry about the quality of all my chapters :( Let me just add that I am so sorry about my very long hiatus. There were complications with my aunt and everything! **THANK YOU FOR READING AND REVIEWING! YOU ARE ALL AWESOME! **Are you excited for England and the British Empire? Because I know I am! See you next chapter (hopefully).

Prowls-little-hetalian: Ahhh thank you! I'm so sorry about not updating though :/

Yanelle: Don't worry, Iggy will come around ;)

Dogsrule: Suspicious enough? HAHAHAHA

EclipsedDevil13: Thank you! I love making him submissive to BE ;)

Lemon Sky: This is a long one so yeah. 1) As that is in fact true, after the 7 years war (also known as the French and Indian war) the British revoked their salutary neglect and wanted to keep their colonies to pay for their taxes yatta yatta yatta. 2) I know the fast pace :/ but I am lazy...and it is supposed to take place within a month-ish. I don't remember what I put down. 3) He want to France for help because he knows that, unlike all of the other nations, he wouldn't try to take over America's land [something that Russia or China would do]. 4) America did not immediately know what was going on. He had help from alterate Canada and France. 5) I don't know the old man is useless. WHY IS EVERYONE LOOKING INTO HIS PART SO MUCH!? 6) Because England has been to the parallel universe too. 7) Yes, but America is not normal :) But thank you! I love your constructive criticism because I know how to become a better writer :)

Guest 01: Don't worry that will come ;)

RobinApprenticeLover: *SMILES LIKE I CAN'T EVEN* OMG THANK YOU! (I didn't think that anyone still checks my tumblr or whatever...lol) BUT THANK YOU~

HI: As interesting as that is...no. I'm sorry. That would be cool though :)

Ali-Kun: Thank you! I will try to update more! Winter break is coming up shortly~

BuonoTomato27: Always more 2P!Italies 3

Makorra: WOW THANK YOU FOR THE AMAZING REVIEW~

Guest 02: Will do~

CyberAngel08: Brainwash? That is actually very interesting I never thought of that! Thank you~

Warnings: PLOT TWIST

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia or 2P!Characters.


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